January, 1893
Kent Corners, Oklahoma
Connor Webster viewed the female standing in front of him.
The woman who'd represented his future. He felt the urge
to turn his back and walk away, across the porch and into
his parents' home. Not that the woman he'd planned on
marrying was unfit for the estate of matrimony. Loris
simply was far from a suitable bride, so far as he was
concerned. Considering that the baby she carried had been
planted in her womb by his own brother, her pregnancy made
her totally unsuitable.
Not that Connor couldn't have accepted another man's
child. It was the betrayal by the pair of them that made
him angry. And right now angry was too mild a word to
describe the surge of hot-blooded rage that poured through
him.
"I'm sorry," Loris said, her eyes awash with tears. And no
doubt she was. But it was unclear whether her sorrow was
due to the pain she'd caused him or because she'd fallen
pregnant. Either way, he realized his love for her was a
thing of the past. Even the tears that filled her soft
brown eyes failed to bring him to his knees.
Loris was not prone to crying. He'd seen her conquer her
share of adversity and even admit defeat when fate was
against her, but never had he seen her shed a tear.
"You're having a baby. Am I right?" he asked, his voice
terse and clipped. "And that baby belongs to my brother.
Am I right on that point, too?"
She nodded, twice in fact, and then turned aside, as if
she would begin the long walk back to town from his home.
"I know I've hurt you, Connor, and β"
"You don't know the half of it, Loris...." He could barely
speak, the betrayal cut Connor so deep. He wondered if he
truly could walk away from Loris with no regrets.
"What will I do?" she asked in a soft whisper, turning
back to face him again.
For the first time since he'd discovered the truth, he
felt a faint glimmer of sympathy for her.
"Maybe James will marry you," Connor said glibly.
"You know better," Loris said quietly. "He was out for a
good time, and I fell for his promises. I was fool enough
to think..." She shrugged, as if realizing that her excuse
was lame, and she'd just condemned herself.
"He's your brother, Connor. At first I thought he was only
flirting and it was exciting."
"You thought he'd marry you? But you were already
betrothed to me, Loris. Why would James fall into that
trap? He's smart. Apparently, smarter than I."
"That's not it," she said. "I thought he really loved me.
That's where I was dead wrong. I should have known better.
Your brother has courted every eligible girl in town β and
some that were not so eligible. More than I can count, and
I doubt he can keep track either." She laughed, and Connor
thought the sound was singularly without mirth.
"So what do you expect of me?" he asked, knowing already
what her answer would be. She was stuck between a rock and
a hard place, and Connor Webster was her only hope of
salvation.
"I would like you to honor your promise, and marry me,"
she said. The words were flat, without expression.
"I'm not a fool, Loris," he told her. "I'd planned a
future with you, and that included babies and a farm and
years of marriage. You've ruined all of that. I'm afraid
you're on your own."
Loris's tears flowed down her cheeks, and onto the front
of her dress. Connor felt an unwilling tug of pity as he
looked at her. "I'll help you get out of town, if you
like," he said. "Do you have any relatives who might take
you in?"
"No." She shook her head. "And once my folks find out,
I'll be on the front porch with my valise and nowhere to
go."
"There's not much I can do for you, Loris," he said
bluntly.
"I thought you loved me," she told him, her gaze falling
to the snowy ground at her feet. She shivered, as though
the sight of the newly fallen snow had reminded her of the
chill of the dreary January day.
"I did," he admitted. "We've already gone over that.
But I trusted you with my heart, and you went behind my
back β with my brother."
Loris turned away, her foot sliding on the slick ground.
He reached to grasp her elbow and held her upright, but
she withdrew from his touch.
"What will you do?" he asked.
"I don't know. But for sure I won't bother you again," she
told him, walking away, her back straight, her shoulders
squared, the road to town before her.
Loris Peterson had thought her life was planned, had been
happy in her betrothal to Connor Webster, had thought she
was in love with the man. Until Connor's brother, James,
had entered her life.
James, was a right good hand with the ladies, a scamp of
the first order, her father had said, when he found her
speaking with the man in front of the general store one
day. She'd been warned, not only by her father, but by her
own common sense. And failed to heed the message.
James had been kind and gentle, yet dashing and
sophisticated, at least to her eyes. And she had assumed
that she was safe with him. After all, he was Connor's
brother. As if that had made a difference.
Two brothers could not have been more unalike. Connor was
steady, reliable and rock-solid. The sort of man a
sensible girl would choose for a husband. And Loris
considered herself eminently sensible. At least, she had
until James had swung her around the dance floor at Eloise
Simpson's wedding. His offer to escort her had been kind,
she thought, with Connor gone on business.
James had been gallant, serving her with small cakes and
cups of punch, and walking her outside when the grange
hall became too warm for comfort, due to the number of
exuberant dancers filling the floor.
Outside, he'd been funny, telling her stories that tickled
her, probably more so because of the spiked punch he'd
coaxed her to drink. He'd halted their progress beneath a
tall oak tree, and there in the shadows that surrounded
them, he'd kissed her for the first time.
Now, she wished fervently that it had never happened, or
that it had been the first and last kiss she'd received
from his experienced lips. There was something about a man
with experience that appealed to a woman, Loris decided.
James knew how to bend her to his will, knew that his
mouth against the nape of her neck would make her shiver
with delight. Possessed of blue eyes and dark hair, he was
handsome. Gifted with a body that was tall and well-
muscled, he was strong, and yet he had a gentle streak
that appealed to her as a woman. For surely a man so sweet
would never cause her harm.
She laughed aloud as she passed the church, and then
stifled the sound, lest some holy presence might strike
her dead for her sins. Though that seemed unlikely, for
hadn't the Lord himself forgiven the woman caught in sin?
Right now, she was more interested in the forgiveness of
her parents, and that was not a likely occurrence. They
would be horrified. Her mother would cry and carry on, her
father would be stern and judgmental.And she would be
forever left with the burden of guilt she carried.
Through it all would be the knowledge that her life was
ruined. Ruined by one moment of temptation, one glimpse of
pleasure, one man set on having his way with her. And he
had. In the depths of her father's barn, where the hay lay
soft and deep in a storage stall, he'd talked her out of
her clothing, whispered sweet words of appeal, and taken
her virginity. That he was very good at what he'd done
seemed of little consequence now, for guilt overwhelmed
her as she thought of her unfaithful behavior. At the time
her thoughts had been of the years ahead, when she and
James Webster would spend their lives together.
It was not to be. James had been offered a job as manager
of a ranch in Missouri and planned to leave town soon.
He'd told her of his opportunity, and she'd looked up at
him pleadingly. "What about me?" she'd asked.
"Connor loves you," he'd told her. "He'll marry you."
"I doubt it," she'd said sadly. "I'm going to have your
child, James. I've cheated on him. I hate myself. How can
I expect him to forgive me?"
"Tell him I forced you into it," James said loftily.
"He'll believe you."
"And then he'll tell me to force you to marry me," she
said. "And if my father hears of such a thing, he'll get
out his shotgun and you'll be wearing a load of buckshot
in your fanny."
"That's not gonna happen," James had said. "Connor will
marry you, and you're smart enough to never let your
father hear my name in connection with this."
Loris turned in at the gate and climbed the steps to the
front porch of the big house she'd been born in nineteen
years ago. Behind the house was a barn and corral, a
henhouse and a garden. The property was not large, but
prosperous. She clasped the door handle and turned it. The
front door was closed but not locked, for the folks in
this town seldom set a bolt on their doors.
People in Kent Corners, Oklahoma, could be trusted not to
infringe on another's property. She'd heard that all of
her life, and now she laughed as she stepped into the
front hall. Most folks could be trusted, but not James
Webster, who had done more than infringe on his brother's
property. He'd seduced his brother's fiancΓ©e.
Then he had turned his back on his responsibility and
walked away. His departure was scheduled for that very day.
Loris climbed the stairs, holding the smooth banister
firmly, her legs not seeming solid beneath her. She
thought for a moment of her father's shotgun, and wondered
how it could be used to put her out of her misery. Then
dismissed that thought as not worthy of contemplation.
She'd never be able to pull the trigger.
If she had to find a place to live, scrabbling for food,
making a way for herself, she would. If Connor was willing
to pay for her passage out of town, maybe he'd help her
move someplace close by, an abandoned house perhaps. There
were several of them west of town, where families had
renounced their dreams, and moved on instead to a more
prosperous place.
She trudged to her room and sat down dejectedly on the
side of her bed, unconcerned for once that she might muss
the quilt. Her mother's training went deep and sitting on
the bed, or, heaven forbid, lying down on it in the
daytime, was strictly against the rules of behavior taught
to young ladies who intended to be thought of as women of
distinction.
Whether or not Loris held out any hopes of achieving that
exalted position now seemed of little concern, for she
knew that her position in society would henceforth be that
of a fallen woman.
Now came the difficult part, she realized. Talking to her
parents was the very last thing she wanted to do, yet was,
of necessity, the most important item on her list of
things that must be faced.
Suppertime would be the best time, she decided. In the
meantime, she'd do well to sort through her clothing and
see how much she could carry with her when her father
showed her the door.
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